Bullets on a Canvas
by LesbianLoser
Summary: A Clexa High School AU. Lexa is in JROTC and Clarke really likes drawing her. Rated T for naughty words.
1. Chapter 1

**So, I started this before the "incident", so it is not a Lexa tribute piece; I will write that later. This is just a cute little bit of fluff that got stuck in my head during my high school registration. Also, if you don't live in America or go to high school, ROTC is basically a class that students can take that sort of trains them for the military, both mentally and physically. It involves a lot of laps, pushups, and chin-ups, along with following instructions and gaining leadership skills. I just thought that it would be something Lexa would do.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 or these characters.**

Clarke sprints down the hallway, bright blonde hair flying behind her. She turns a sharp corner and almost runs into Mr. Kane as she enters the gymnasium of Jaha High School. The boys in ROTC are gathered around in a corner watching in awe as a certain cadet captain pulls herself up on a bar. Clarke jogs over to the boys and squeezes her way through the circle. As expected there was Lexa, out-chin-upping the freshman next her on the bar. The skinny boy drops to the ground and the general calls Lexa down as well.

"Um, General Indra, ma'am," Clarke called politely, "Can I borrow Lexa, please?"

The General and Lexa turned to look at the blonde, Lexa donning a small smile.

"How long," the dark-skinned woman asks, clearly not happy that she may have to continue training without her best student.

Clarke knew it would take a while, maybe even until ROTC training was over, but she did want to actually spend some time with her girl, "Not that long."

The older woman turns to face Lexa, who sucks in a breath and stands, head held high, at attention.

"Fine," Indra sighs tiredly, "Extra laps tomorrow, Woods. You are dismissed."

Lexa lets a smile break through her stoic facade before she scurries off to get changed, the blonde trailing behind her, shouting a quick, "Thanks, General." Once in the girls' locker room, Lexa embraces Clarke in a strong hug, hanging on until the girl wriggles out of her grasp muttering something about her being sweaty.

"So, what did you need me for," the taller girl asks as she changes out of her grey U.S. Army shirt and into the red tee and dark jacket she had been wearing before.

Clarke has to tear her blue eyes away from her girlfriend's abs before they can meet Lexa's green ones. Having processed the question, she answers with a cheeky grin, "It's a surprise."

The brunette rolls her eyes at the younger girl's shenanigans and grabs her bag in one hand and Clarke's own hand in her other. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

The shorter girl wastes no time in leading Lexa to the top floor, up five flights of stairs, to the art room, letting the scent of acrylic paints and graphite fill her nose. She takes the older girl, who is still following Clarke like a lovesick puppy, to the center of the room and sits her on a stool. Lexa doesn't question the blonde when she scampers off to find some pencils, just raises an eyebrow. The artist, now humming a tune, comes back with paper, pencils, a lap desk, and a chair, "I want to draw you."

"Now," the older girl whined. Clarke had drawn her many times before, but it was usually after their throes of passion or early on a Saturday morning, when Lexa was still resting peacefully and Clarke's mother was still working the graveyard shift at the hospital. But, this time, Clarke wanted to draw Lexa as other people saw her, as rude and cocky and a badass. She wanted to see if her peers still saw the beautiful girl that she sees during Friday movie nights and Saturday morning pancake time.

"Just pretend I'm not here. Just be the you you are normally during the day," the blonde girl said, making it sound easy. But it wasn't easy. It wasn't easy to just become the stoic, don't-give-a-flying-fuck Lexa that other students saw. It was a mask she had to put on every day and keep on, even around her Love.

"I'll try," Lexa replied, putting on her best "touch me and I'll kill you" face.

An hour later, Clarke had finished and was examining her work. She frowned, "It's not right."

Confused, Lexa peered up at the blue eyes that caught her attention years ago. "What's not right," she asked, not afraid to sit there for another hour if it meant making her girl happy.

The blonde continued to eye her work, "This looks like you."

"I would hope so," Lexa fired back with a cocked eyebrow and small smirk.

Clarke squinted, as though she was trying to see where she had made her flaw. She set down the paper, stood, and straddled the brunette, wrapping her arms around her neck while strong arms held her waist. "But it looks like my you, the one that tells me stories until I fall asleep, the one that takes care of me when I'm sick. I wanted to see what other people see, Make sure they're seeing the same beauty I do and then try to understand why you aren't constantly crowded by screaming girls all day," Clarke pouts.

Lexa smiles and scoots the smaller girl higher up on her lap. "I'm not surrounded by screaming girls all day because they all know what you'd do if I were. They know it wouldn't be pretty. And, you can't see what other people see, it's a perk of having me love you. You've buried yourself so deep in my heart that I can't try to put my walls up or I'll trap you in there."

Clarke says nothing, just snuggles herself deeper into Lexa's neck, licking the skin there. Eventually, Lexa pushes her little blonde away from her jaw, checks her watch, then playfully swats her, "Now, see what you've done. I'll be running laps for hours to make this up."

Clarke just giggles and holds Lexa a little tighter, "Good, you'll be all sweaty for me."

"I thought you didn't like sweaty," the older girl says, suspiciously.

The blonde just giggles, "Well, maybe I'll make an exception for you."

 **~Stay Classy~**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Since you all seemed to want me to continue ROTC Lexa, here you go. Another note for all you non-ROTC-knowledgeable readers: in many high schools, ROTC students will be required to wear their uniform to school once a week and the ROTC "teacher" (in this case, Indra) will do uniform checks to make sure everything is looking sharp. You get medals and stuff for completing programs and moving up through the ranks. Also, all you people that are in ROTC or have been in it, sorry if I get any facts wrong.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The 100, thank God. I would not want to be on the receiving end of all this drama in the fandom.**

Lexa woke to Journey and barking. She shut off her radio and wondered thought the dark house until she got to the kitchen.

"Hey Fish," she greeted the Rottweiler as she let it outside.

Lexa made herself a bowl of cereal and sat on the couch as her sister walked in, already showered and dressed.

"Get up, runt," Anya commanded, "It's Thursday. You've got to get dressed." Shit! Thursday! The day Indra made all the ROTC students dress in uniform.

Hastily setting her bowl in the sink, Lexa ran to the bathroom, taking the stairs two steps at a time, Anya yelling after her, "And don't forget to brush that mane down!"

After a brief shower and ten minutes blow drying and straightening her hair, Lexa hurried into her room, her toothbrush still in her mouth. After returning the toothbrush to the bathroom, she carefully removed her pressed and ironed uniform, the navy slacks and jacket stiff in her hands. Careful not to wrinkle it, Lexa dressed, pinning all her medals and awards on her jacket. She slipped on the uncomfortable, polished shoes and tied them tight. Next comes the biggest challenge of her teenage life, gathering all of her hair into a neat military bun. After three tries, Anya deems her hair acceptable. Already ten minutes late, Lexa jogs stiffly to her Jeep parked in the driveway and heads off to school.

After a heartbreaking inspection by General Indra (her US pins weren't straight on her collar and her shoulder cords were sloppy) Lexa aimlessly wandered the halls. She was let out ten minutes early and had to wait for her next class to start, so what better way to pass the time than recall everything she could about World War II before her test. She was so lost in the thoughts of Hitler and Stalin, she walked right past a certain blonde. Clarke, having her nose in her phone, see Lexa until she was already behind her. She ran after the taller girl and pulled on her sleeve.

"Hey, gorgeous," she breathed as Lexa turned to face her.

She was already tugging on Lexa's lapels, a Cheshire grin on her face, and the brunette really did not have time for this.

It happened every week. Every week Lexa would wear her uniform and every week it would turn Clarke on so much that she'd end up dragging the two of them in a closet for relief.

"Clarke, no," Lexa pleaded, bating wandering hands away. "I have color guard tonight. You can't mess up my uniform. No."

But Clarke was relentless, "Please! Please. Five minutes." And then she pouted. Lexa could never say no to those plump, pink lips.

Finally, she gave in, "Five minutes." Clarke said nothing as she grabbed the cadet captain and nearly sprinted to their favorite janitorial closet. "I swear to God, if you get bleach on my uniform," but Clarke cut her off with her mouth on Lexa's before she could finish.


End file.
